Defeated
by r-nica
Summary: The King of Games has always held the pride of winning every game known to man, never knowing how tormenting losing must be like for his enemies… until he was challenged by the one opponent he could never overcome. Revolutionshipping. Post-first series ("Season 0").


**DISCLAIMER:** If _Yu-Gi-Oh!_ belonged to me, I would ensure that character/image songs of the cast would exist. Not only that, I would create (in addition to the _Duel Monsters_ series) an alternative version of the show that would continue the original plot if only the card game hadn't resulted in being so popular in Japan back then that it took over. Takahashi-san, I hope you're reading this. -_-

**It has always been a personal challenge that I write something **_**short**_**. Usually my fics turn out better as they lengthen, but now I aim to convey something with less words. **

**And so with this, my style of writing would be quite (if not entirely) different from my usual style. (Hmm, I don't recall ever writing something like this since **_Never Enough_**.)**

**This fic is set to post-canon first series (popularly known as "Season 0"), possibly applicable to the manga to an extent as well. Yami no Yuugi–centric. Hmm, interesting that I have an Anzu-centric fic named **_Winning_**, while here, his story is ironically titled **_Defeated_**. Well, you get to see why as you read.**

**Hope you enjoy! :)**

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DEFEATED

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Games—his most powerful tool.

Out of anything, even the most useless of things, he could create countless of these on the spot. Their supernatural nature made his opponents taste his poetic justice, their awful defeat. But he was more than the games' wielder, their initiator.

He was the _king_.

Game of life and death.

It was always the mode of his preferred method, its two facets partners in serving his purpose.

But now, one was the challenger, and the other… the wager.

_Now…_

Anzu danced an erratic dance in the water, her arms flailing, her legs kicking, her breath in desperate gasps as the atmosphere of cold liquid dictated her steps.

_It's game time._

The last thing he expected to happen on a fun summer outing at the beach yesterday.

Now, women were donned in black kimonos and dresses, men in suits of the same color. Even he was dressed in the same manner. It was the first time he had ever shown himself without anyone he cared for in immediate peril.

It was also the first time he couldn't wear the smirk he had earned the right to constantly wear. The alienating feeling of falling short was too overwhelming for him. Guilt smothered his soul, choked what remaining uneaten conscience he still had, as he stared at the framed picture of Anzu, decorated with a black lace on its top corners, above her wooden coffin.

Added to this guilt was that even Jounouchi and Honda, two of the most strong-willed people he ever knew, were breaking down in tears, along with Miho, Bakura, his other classmates, people who loved Anzu. It was too much for him to take, too suffocating, that he had to go outside to breathe fresh air.

But even outside, he could still hear the sniffs. The weeping. The grief.

His fists balled themselves at his sides so tightly, they nearly drew out blood.

How could things turn out this way?

He was a strategist, tactful yet reckless. A gambler with the highest stakes available. Always three steps ahead of his opponent. Besides providing the paraphernalia needed in the game, he would even give his opponent an obvious advantage while he, on the other hand, would be left with a seeming handicap. He was that confident, so certain to win, with five thousand–year-old worth of wisdom and knowledge of timeless games to back him up.

Yet not even all the knowledge of the world's games could do anything to save her.

_The rules are simple._

He had heard the calm yet eerily silent voice in horror. Of course he knew that line too well. It was, after all, his own prologue to his deadly lessons.

_You just have to get her before I do in one minute. Whoever claims her first before the time's up wins._

Just one minute was just _too_ _short_.

_Game start._

He shouldn't have waited for the signal to act. He should have dived sooner, have struggled against the currents faster, have taken control earlier.

Now he had lost something more valuable than his own life.

His friends had kept telling him that it wasn't his fault, but he would not be consoled. He wasn't supposed to be in the position of failing. He _never_ was.

Yuugi was too busy breaking into pieces inside to even tell him that it _was_ his fault.

_Penalty Game._

When Anzu never responded to even his last act of reviving her, his heart was ripped apart from his body.

He hadn't cheated, had never cheated, not even thought of breaking the rules. Penalties were reserved for players who never adhere. Yet he received one. He couldn't help but be bitter on how he wouldn't have received the worst penalty known to him if he had gone against his ethics and cheated instead. The irony…

But penalties were also meant for players who lost.

And now, for as long as he existed, he would always feel how cold and stiff her white skin was against his arms as he clutched her nearly bare yet lifeless body to his chest in wild denial.

But the Penalty Game would not end there.

_The Yami no Game shows a person's true character. _

He wasn't as strong as he thought he was, as high as he believed he was, invincible as he considered himself as. He didn't even deserve his own title, the title he had been bearing for who knew how long both in confidence and arrogance. That title was now meaningless.

Without Anzu, _everything_ was meaningless.

He had been careful around her, caring about her by protecting or avenging her with his abilities. Manifesting anything else outside this was trespassing Yuugi's territory. But it was all right with him, so as long as he could keep her safe.

Could keep her alive.

The great wailing inside the house mocked him for his shortcoming. Taunted him mercilessly again and again and again until he was one step closer to going insane.

How he wished desperately for silence. But he couldn't retreat to his soul room anymore. Anzu's cries for his help endlessly echoing there inside had driven him out to where he was now, but it tormented him that he could still hear them loud and clear.

He could also hear Anzu's name in anguished tones inside him. His other self sounded like dying as well.

Images of Anzu smiling, laughing, bursting with life fed his swelling regret.

He cursed himself.

When it came to bullies and wrongdoers who crossed him, life was a game. But not to his friends. Not to Anzu. Even though he had saved her or brought justice for her several times through a game, she being in danger was _never_ a game.

When it came to Anzu, a game was _life_.

And now, it would always haunt him, the way he had shaken her again and again as his alarm for her escalated. The way he had called her to open her frozen eyes in an unusually desperate voice, refusing to believe the horrible painful truth, but to no avail.

He could apologize to her over and over, but it would never reach her ears. Would never erase how stricken he was.

Would never bring her back.

He trembled.

Why, just _why_, couldn't he save her?

He gritted his teeth.

Snapped.

Burned in rage.

With his fist, he struck the outside wall of the house.

He hated this.

And struck again.

He hated _all_ of this.

And struck again.

He hated _himself_.

And again.

And _again and again and again_.

He gritted his teeth once more. He wanted all this torment, all this suffering, all this heavy weight crushing him to dust—_everything_—to vanish. For someone who had been reigning in victory all the time, how could he possibly handle all these at the same time?

Dark red began staining his knuckles as his breathing turned ragged, and it was all he could do to not channel the rest of his ill feelings to Yuugi's fist. Yuugi didn't deserve a battered body to match his own ravaged soul.

Thorns of loss sprang from his chest, piercing him thoroughly from the inside out until he bled.

It hurt. So much.

No. It wasn't so much.

It was _excruciating._

But the bleeding would never stop.

There would be no rest for him. No relief.

No escape.

No hope.

He slid to his knees.

Right now, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to demand, no, _beg_ for a rematch with his opponent.

But there would be no rematch.

There never had been.

And the Penalty Game would never end.

His vision began to blur.

No man could defeat the King of Games.

Only a higher power could.

He pounded the ground, bitter.

How the mighty have fallen.

For the first time, he fell apart.

For the first time, he cried.

And for the first time…

The King of Games had finally been defeated.

-The End

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**So there. I hope it's clear that it's not an actual Yami no Game but rather figuratively speaking (for Yami no Yuugi, it might as well be). As I've mentioned earlier, ****my style of writing would be quite (if not entirely) different from my usual style.** I've always wondered if the King of Games is really that invincible and under what circumstances he would lose**. I just couldn't resist the parallelism I found with the situation written here.  
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**Reviews are welcome. Whether or not you have an account in this website, it's okay; I accept them. Thanks in advance. =)  
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